


Lost and Found

by Enele



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Airplanes, Airports, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Doctor Clarke, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Teacher Bellamy, a bit of analysis of clexa but in a respectful way, basically many emotions, it also has a playlist, lost plane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enele/pseuds/Enele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is asked to pick up Bellamy from the airport. But then communication to his plane is lost, leading to determining realisations, unbearable fears and a clash of forces.</p><p>(Do not read if you're afraid of planes getting lost and/or crashing, because there will be talks about it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't know anything about plane technology and alike, but I've mostly got my infos from [the NASA](http://asrs.arc.nasa.gov/publications/directline/dl6_lost.htm) (lol). Also, I think in Germany there'd be psychologists and privacy screens present, but I ignored that because of America and plot.  
> When I wrote this, I listened to Jake Bugg's On My One and created a playlist. You can listen to it on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/enelesmith/playlist/4dVk9rWePIwdg4mHJaeifE).
> 
> More rambling by me at the end.

“Clarke? May I come in?”

Clarke let go a deep sigh. She had to write quite the massive term paper and the floor of her room was covered in books, notepads, pens and papers. She sat in the middle of them and tried to make sense of things, putting everything into a coherent argumentation. It was difficult – but now that Octavia had interrupted her, it became pointless anyway.

“Yeah, come in”, she said. “But watch out! There are b- – stop! Careful with the door! Books! Books everywhere!”

“Oh gosh, I'm so sorry”, Octavia said hastily and pulled herself through the slightly opened door, trying not to cause any more damage to the library books.

In her head, Clarke let go another small sigh. She was being unfair. Actually, Octavia was nice and Raven as well. She was kind of happy about getting the free room in their apartment three years ago. Living with them was nice. Sure, sometimes things were complicated and they had their on-off friendship moments but in general everyone cared about the other one and tried to help whenever possible. They spent whole evenings together, either at home or outside, and Clarke had met nearly all of their friends by now. She liked being with them and after the holidays, she enjoyed coming back from home to their flat.

Octavia stood somehow undetermined in front of her, her head lowered towards Clarke but her eyes not meeting hers. She also had her hands in her pockets, something which clearly indicated something wasn't as usual.

“What's up?”, Clarke asked.

“I – can you grab Bellamy from the airport?”, Octavia asked quietly.

Clarke frowned. Octavia groaned and fell in a fluent motion onto Clarke's bed. “Okay, I'll tell you what's up. My boss just called and said they need me at the bar because Murphy is too sick to serve edibles – and I haven't worked enough this month anyway.”

“Aha?”, Clarke replied.

“Yeah, college has been hard. But anyway, Bell's coming back, as you know,” – she did know and did not need Octavia's deep eye contact in order to know it more – “and I said I would pick him up but now I can't because I really need to work tonight, otherwise I'll get fired ...” She looked at Clarke with her huge puppy eyes.

Clarke distorted her face and slightly shook her head to underline her words. “Octavia, I need to work on this paper, for real!”

“I _know_ but Raven is working, too, and Jasper, Monty and Miller are at some kind of workshop and are busy as well! You're my last hope, Clarke!”

When Clarke still didn't agree, Octavia said with a charming voice: “Look, I see you need to get stuff done, so how about you go picking up Bellamy and I wash the dishes for a week? So you have time for your paper?”

Clarke looked up. Octavia had to be pretty desperate if she offered kitchen duty. And Bellamy really needed a lift home; he had been at some kind of international conference for history teachers in Europe and had sounded completely exhausted when he talked to Octavia on the phone before check-in.

Clarke looked Octavia straight in the eye. “ _Two_ weeks of my kitchen duty. Then I'll do it.”

“Yes!”, Octavia clapped her hands and beamed at Clarke. “Oh gosh, thank you, Clarke! You're my angel, seriously, my knight in shining armour! Hell, it would have been really nasty without you, I don't know how I would have dealt with this. Oh, thank you!” And with that she sat down next to Clarke and pulled her into a strong hug.

“Ouch, you're crashing my bones!”, Clarke laughed. “It's alright, we can't leave Bellamy alone at the airport, right?”

Grinning, Octavia stood up again. “I'm so relieved. Oh, Clarke, you're awesome!”

“Uh, help me up.” Clarke held up her arms and Octavia pulled her to her feet. “Now, when and where does his plane land?”

* * *

At nine in the evening, Clarke pulled into the parking space at the airport. She found the terminal where Bellamy was supposed to arrive pretty quickly and settled between all the other waiting loved ones. Despite the increase of writing time due to the shortfall of her kitchen duties, she still had a hell lot of reading to do. She had brought several books with her and occupied two waiting seats. She started to immerse herself into the work.

She knew getting work done at a busy airport wasn't a great idea. Although it was in the later evening hours, there were always people running around, hurrying to a plane or taxi, searching for toilets and food. After a while of (not very interesting) reading, she started to look at the others around her: the ones saying good-bye, the ones travelling alone, the ones arriving and hugging their family members. There was an awful lot of couples who either were about to get torn apart or to be reunited. Either way there was a lot of kissing and smiling and hugging. Not helpful.

Clarke stared at her book. The airport probably wasn't the best place to be for a girl who just got her heart broken. She didn't want to think about it, or to be reminded of it, but all this love and affection around her made her mind go into that direction, if she wanted or not.

She started reflecting on the things that had happened in her love life. Names and faces appeared in her mind, painfully reminding her that it hadn't worked out with neither boys nor girls. It hurt the way she went down her mental list, making a tick every time things went wrong. To be honest, it already started with Wells, whose feelings she didn't return – not her fault, she reminded herself, but things did get awkward and now she hadn't spoken to him for months. She didn't want to think about Finn either, although she oddly became good friends with Raven because of him, but the person who made her brain and soul and heart crease the most was actually Lexa.

Some nasty things had have happened, things which could be summed up under the terms “breach of trust” and “malicious allegations”. It took Lexa way too long to realise that Clarke seriously wanted to be with Lexa – and not with Bellamy (Clarke bitterly burst into a laughter, as always when she came across this) – and that Clarke's love for her was not meaningless at all. But Lexa couldn't see it and lost it and betrayed her and when she finally _did_ believe Clarke, it was soon lost beyond recall and they were indispensably separated.

Clarke took a sharp breath. Hell, she needed some rationality now – and so she continued her readings. When another flood of people appeared, she kept her eyes down. The sounds were enough anyway.

That's how she didn't realise the flight was delayed until others next to her started to groan. She looked at the announcement display, staring at the blinking red box. It was half past nine. They didn't know how much longer it would take. Preparing for a long night, Clarke took out the next book.

* * *

After half an hour, Clarke realised nothing had changed. An airline lady appeared and said that it was not known yet when the flight from Amsterdam would arrive. A grumpy man three seats beside her babbled how the hell they couldn't know that. The lady said something about transatlantic flights and walked away.

To be honest, Clarke was a bit annoyed. Okay, delays happened in air traffic but they could at least try to give out more information. She sent Octavia a text saying the flight was late, pressed her teeth together and continued with her reading.

* * *

She sensed something was off when a striking number of airport staff members ran around, waving and shouting frantically. The people in the waiting area looked around surprised, some were concerned. Clarke chose to let her book go and observe the scene. It was difficult to see what was going on, other than airline staff hissing to each other, pointing around. The blinking sign still announced delay. The passenger door next to it remained closed. Neon lamps reflected on the freshly polished white floor tiles. On the huge window front, Clarke could see their own reflections against the dark night sky, mixed with softer street lamps and car lights.

When they called relatives to Bellamy's flight one hour after the original landing time, Clarke knew at once things hadn't gone right.

They had lost contact to the plane.

An airline lady with a creaseless black blazer, black bun and thickly framed glasses held a clipboard in her arm and satisfyingly looked in hand of the situation. The only thing disturbing this image of calming perfection was a little streak sticking out of her bun and the words she was formulating fast.

They didn't know what had happened.

Losing radio contact happens from time to time.

It didn't have to mean anything.

They would give them new information as soon as they had them.

Please wait here for further instructions.

Clarke tried to keep her brain shut and to guide her thoughts into a coldly analytical direction. Planes were still the safest mode of transportation. The people around her moaned, covered their faces, some had tears in their eyes, some fiercely asked questions, started to shout. Clarke felt dizzy and noises and lights clashed together into a muddy flush of sensory impressions. _how could you lose contact to a plane where have they been how long ago did you lose them were terrorists on board why doesn't anyone help did it crash_

Before her inner eye, there was a picture of a white plane between the clouds, a soundless black and orange explosion with hot gleaming fire bubbles, the movements of the sea, a white air plane piece swimming between the waves, a brown body in black trousers –

Irrational fears. Just irrational fears, an understandable human reaction. This was not helping. She thought about sending Octavia a message but what could she write more than an absurd “btw B's plane's lost, no info, have fun at work!!! xoxo”? And that would only result in a panicking Octavia at work and she needed the money, so Clarke dropped it. But still … Clarke needed to do something. She stood tall, shook herself a little and walked upright to the lady with the plan.

“I want to speak to the person in charge”, Clarke said clearly.

With a look of professional pity, the lady said: “Please wait in the waiting area for further information.”

“I need to speak to a responsible person”, Clarke repeated firmly.

“I understand this situation is difficult for you. Please wait here for further instructions.”

“I have to help”, Clarke insisted.

The woman turned around and fully focused on Clarke for the first time. “Look, there is nothing you can do –”

“I –”

“Our technicians are working hard and will solve the problem so-”

 _“The problem?”_ Clarke looked at her with her mouth open. She lost it. “The _problem?_ _A damn plane is missing_ and we've all heard enough news to know what could have happened! A plane from _y_ _our_ airline is missing, the lives of hundreds of people are uncertain and you've got the _nerves_ to tell us to wait for further instructions. How about you start telling us what is actually going on?!”

“Miss, if you don't calm down, I will have to send for security”, the lady said. Clarke realised she stood way too close to her, forging her chin forward, nose crinkled. She took a step back.

“Yeah, tell us what really happened!”, a well-fed man next to Clarke said loudly.

“We've been waiting for over one and a half hours for this flight”, a woman in an orange floral blouse said. “You've got to know more!”

While the lady's body stayed still and impressive, her eyes jumped through the audience.

“Yeah, why didn't you inform us right away?”, an older lady asked.

The airline lady started, “Everybody is focusing their whole attention on –”

“Where has the plane been last?”

“We are trying our best to –”

“Was my daughter on that flight?”

“Please remain calm and w–”

Clarke backed away. This lady, as controlling as she looked, simply looked that way. She didn't know anything more than Clarke and her job was to maintain order among the waiting families. Clarke wouldn't get any information out of her. It was useless.

Suddenly, Clarke took out her phone. Normally, there was no connection on a plane, normally, it was forbidden to use your phone, normally, it had to be on flight mode. Normally. But this certainly wasn't normal, so she checked Bellamy's profile. The last time he had been online was eight hours ago. She called him.

“The number you have dialled is currently unavailable.”

She tried again.

“The number you have dialled is currently unavailable.”

She tried again. And again and again and again.

“The number you have dialled is –” “The number you have –” “The number you have dialled is currently –” “The num–”

She clenched her fingers on her phone screen and let go a frustrated groan. She was trapped. And she couldn't do anything. She couldn't let the plane magically appear, she couldn't help with their non-existent technical expertise, she was merely a young girl trying to write an essay for university.

Clarke scanned the surroundings. The area had been cordoned off, the flight from Mexico City which had been supposed to arrive next to their gate had been relocated. The remaining people were relatives to Bellamy's flight and spread out within the cordon. The airline lady was surrounded by several people arguing with her or listening, others sat with blank faces on the waiting seats, some were hugging and some spoke silently to each other. Some drank coffee. Security men stood by the walls.

It was so surreal.

She went back to her seat. Her mind was suddenly calm, her body breathed normally and she felt rested. She looked at the library books. How those books claimed their own, world-relevant importance … and how imaginary this relevance …

Suddenly, there was fast movement left to her. The girl sitting three seats away crouched forward, her hands pressed onto her face, head on her knees. The girl was alone. She shook. Clarke stood up and sat down next to her.

“Hey”, she said silently.

The girl stopped shaking. She took her fingers away a bit, moved her head and looked at Clarke.

“It will be all right”, Clarke said.

She girl – she was about Clarke's age – sniffed and sat up. She tried to hide her tears.

Clarke looked straight ahead. After a while, she asked: “Who's on that plane?”

“My brother.” The girl's voice broke.

“He'll be fine”, Clarke said softly. “This won't be …” She was so pathetic. How could she say things like that? After all, she didn't know herself what had happened to the plane!

Sometimes, Clarke forgot about grief. She forgot that this was new to many people. That many could not control their feelings – or didn't want to, and that everyone behaved differently in times of shock.

“You're a strong woman”, Clarke said fiercely. “It is okay to be break down. You will make this.”

The girl bowed forward another time. She asked, “You? Family too?” – “A friend.” –, and didn't inquire further. Clarke could see how her fingers were clenching her head and started to reassuringly stroking her upper back. She calmed down a bit. They sat like this for quite a while.

With her other hand, Clarke wrote a message to Octavia. She hadn't read her last message yet, which probably meant work was really busy, and Clarke typed: “o. they lost contact to bell's plane. Apparently happens from time to time. i know nothing besides that I should wait. I'll update you as soon as I have something. Call lincoln and be with him! clarke”

Advising Octavia to seek help at her boyfriend's was probably the only thing Clarke could do at the moment. She felt miserable and suddenly, everything was very real. Bellamy's whereabouts were entirely unclear and somehow, Clarke was the one bearing the responsibility. She was the link between Bellamy and his family, their friends, his world. She was the link between Bellamy and the airport. If this turned out badly, she was the first to deal with the aftermaths, the paperwork, the decisions. She was the spokesman of the Bellarke family. She straightened up because it felt like it was destined to be.

She felt uneasy. The girl next to her was much calmer than before, the lady still repeated her sentences, there were no news and there was no-one with lists or applications to fill out. Some reporters gathered behind the cordons. Her library books were irrelevant and tainted. There was nothing she was asked to do and there was nothing she _could_ do. It struck her how alone she was. She wanted Bellamy to step through the passenger door _now_ , with his suitcase and everything at the right place. She just wanted to hug him closely and drive home. _Home_. She missed him.

Clarke gave a jerk. Hell yes. She fucking missed him. She missed his dorky, wide smile, his messy hair, his huge dark hands and his looks. She wanted to hear him ranting about _stupid_ students, about _stupid_ half-gods, about Octavia's _stupid_ new boyfriend. Shit, when did it happen that she even started to miss him teasing her?

Clarke folded her arms and slid back into her seat. She had met Bellamy in her shared flat. It was a Blake siblings thing that Bellamy came over nearly every second evening, forcing Clarke and Raven to spent time with him as well. Raven hadn't really cared about it but Clarke had have huge problems adjusting to that.

Bellamy and Clarke hadn't liked each other at all. They had gotten into heated arguments over nearly everything and soon Raven had made sure they wouldn't spend too much time together in the same room. However, at certain events such as birthday parties, it hadn't really been possible to avoid each other. It had been their luck because they had tried to pull themselves together for the sake of the birthday child. Suddenly, they actually had have some awesome conservations about patriarchy, politics and feeding the world. Octavia liked to say that they got even less bearable after that because they couldn't be separated once they found something to talk about – which happened, obviously, already at the sight of each other.

But they were friends, right? Clarke saw Lexa's face when she spoke about Clarke's feelings for Bellamy. These huge eyes, light and round, knowing and estimating. Clarke bit her tongue. Had she been right?

Clarke always looked forward to meeting Bellamy. The thought of him coming over always lifted her mood enormously. She couldn't imagine a day without a teasing text message. Even just the mention of Bellamy in a conversation made her heart jump a little. She couldn't imagine him not smiling, him not looking at her with these dark eyes – eyes which used to be cold and exclusive, eyes which had been warm, comforting for about a year. Loving eyes.

She took a sharp breath.

No, no, no, no, no, _no!_

How could it have taken her so long? She jumped to the edge of her seat, back up straight, looking into the distance, her teeth massaging her lower lip. She could be such an idiot.

The girl next to her straightened up as well and looked around confusedly. “What's wrong?”

“He _likes_ me”, Clarke whispered. Like, a lot, apparently. He had done so many things, had tried to help her whenever possible, gave up all his plans as soon as she needed something. They argued, yes, but she could always rely on him and he'd always respect her. And she fought for him as well, made sure he was okay, always tried to release him from his sorrows. And as soon as she thought of home she thought of him.

Fuck. Suddenly, all made sense. And it looked like the world had been _waiting_ for them. She was such a fool.

“It seems that they had been right after all”, Clarke muttered to herself. She looked at the girl. Then, louder: “I mean, how can I write amazing science papers but not notice _this_?” Indistinctly, Clarke waved her hand around. Her neighbour still seemed to understand nothing but, to be fair, she obviously had different problems to cope with herself.

Clarke stood up. “Want something to drink?”

* * *

Fifteen minutes after her enlightenment, the immediate shock turned into something much worse. Waiting became hell.

Clarke had gone through a lot in her life. Her biography was traversed by emotional devastations and carefully placed seams. She usually was proud she hadn't die already, that she made it through nevertheless and still managed to see the good things in life. She was the one who kept on fighting. But nearly two hours after she had arrived at the airport, all her optimism dissolved into a devastating weight. The nameless girl wasn't interested in talking and Clarke wasn't really interested in other beings besides Bellamy either, so Clarke was alone with herself.

Her senses became hyper-aware. She felt as if she was offset from her body by a few inches and slowly began losing her mind.

The dark, opaque night pressed onto the huge window glasses, desperate to creep in. The bright neon light reflected from the white floor, everything glared too much, amplified by the contrast – scarring her skin, burning like acid, tearing down her protection, holding the doors to her weak soul open for the steely, rigid night. The darkness stretched out its hands and grasped her small soul. The long fingers embraced it fully and hold onto it, covering it from every light and hope.

She realised that she was likely to never see the person again she cared most for. She tried to remember the time they said good-bye before he left, but she couldn't, all she could see was a dead body engulfed by the waves of a cold, dark sea endless in all directions. She tried to remember what she said to him, but she couldn't, all she could think of was the childish thought that it was likely that Bellamy never got to know how important he was to her. She tried to remember how it felt when they hugged, but she couldn't, all she could think of was the feeling of touching dead skin in the hospital and that it was likely she would have to identify him.

She couldn't bear it. She couldn't lose him, too.

Her entire body shivered. She clamped her hands together and breathed in and out, forcing her lungs to regain a normal speed. This was okay. This would work out. This thing would be solved and Bellamy would be alive. He would stand in front of her, unharmed. She was strong, she was good, and this would work out.

It was impossible to stay sit. She had to move, she had to do something, but there wasn't anything she could do but she had to _she had to she couldn't just sit around she_

She stood up and started walking around. She paced up and down the seat-free corridor, from the airport lady with now three strands hanging out of her bun to the closed passenger door, back and forth, keeping a good distance from the reporters and the waiting relatives. She wrung her hands, tried to relax her tensed face, stopped biting her lips but it didn't help, the knot in her chest grew bigger, tighter and stronger, the weight kept pressing down on her, and she kept feeling giddy.

She was a wreck.

* * *

Clarke had gone through a lot in her life. She told herself that waiting for news about Bellamy was not the worst thing she ever had to endure – as difficult as it was. But damn, her scale was fucked up and this night certainly ranked among the Top Three.

It was also typical of her life that it took something away from her as soon as she grew attached to it. That the moment she got to know what she wanted was the moment it became impossible. In her life, she had been forced to say many final good-byes, way too many for her age, and she was sick of it. She didn't want that anymore. She didn't want to grow attached to people and then lose them in such a painful, final way. Never again. She needed Bellamy and she would not let him go. He would not be gone.

She _needed_ him.

She was close to the airport lady and turned on her heels for the way back to the passenger door when something happened to the sign.

For the past two hours, the sign across Bellamy's gate had been continuously switching between “flight delayed” and “arrival time unknown” in huge, white letters on red background. It had driven her mad and she had stopped looking at it but now, at the moment she stood right in front of it, she could not take her eyes off.

There was nothing red on it any more. It didn't switch between two pathetic explanations. There stood “Expected 23:50”. Her eyes flew to her watch. It was half past eleven.

“Is this real?”, she asked loudly, pointing to the sign and turning to the lady.

Suddenly, everyone started to move. “What does it mean?” “Have they restored contact?” “Is that true?” But the airline lady looked at the sign with an open mouth and didn't know more than everyone else, either. Soon, a man from the airline in a fine black suit arrived. He didn't look as put together as the lady and some sweat was sparkling on his forehead.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please listen”, he said in a calm but smug voice. When everyone was within earshot, he continued: “The plane is located in our airspace. We have restored contact. As far as we are aware, no-one is harmed. It will land as soon as there is clearance. We would like to thank you for your patience and will answer your questions soon.”

And as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared.

For a moment, there was no sound. Then, simultaneously, everyone's lungs contracted and let go a ragged breath. Suddenly, people started to laugh or cry or pant or stand in shock or hug everyone. Clarke closed her eyes and breathed in, rolled her lips and breathed out with a smile of relief. This was it. Ease flood through her veins and she just stood there for a moment. Then her legs went numb and she went back to her seat to sit down. She laughed to herself.

The cordoned area had been a place of misery, of paralysing unknowing, of tensed uncertainty. Now it was full of sparkling suspense, excited packing and vivid talks. Reporters shifted around to get statements. The girl with her brother on the plane sobbed loudly as tension fell off of her. Clarke patted her back for a moment before stuffing all her library books into her bags.

Five minutes after the man's announcement, the relatives had packed their things and were ready for leaving the airport with their loved ones. But it took said loved ones another hour to arrive. And within that hour, joyful expectation turned into depression again, into anger about the airline, their way of treatment, the lack of information, into blaming technicians, terrorists and Obama, into misogyny.

Clarke couldn't take it any longer and stood up again, resuming pacing back and forth. Her hands started to shiver hard, she could not really control her movements and some threatening weight still pressed her together.

Bellamy was alive, but he was not back yet either.

Darkness occupied her soul again, the knot in her chest caused actual physical pain, the weight pressed onto her shoulders. It was cruel of the world having to let her wait so long. The salvation became unreal and forgotten, the relief long gone. She felt just as uncertain as half an hour ago, maybe it all was a lie, maybe he would never stand in front of her, maybe he'd –

The plane landed at 23:55.

And air traffic continued to torture the waiting as the passengers had to grab their luggage before meeting with their families. The conveyors were hidden at an unknown place behind the passenger door and nothing was known. The relatives assembled in front of the doors, shifting uneasily from one leg to the other, and Clarke continued to pace down the area in order to stop her heart from bursting. Because that was very much how she felt. Everything was fear, fear, fear.

Three hours after the original arrival time, the passenger doors finally opened and let out worn-out passengers to reunite with their equally worn-out families. The girl found her brother, the well-fed man his wife, the woman with her orange floral blouse her cousin, a parent their daughter. And Bellamy was no-where to be seen.

* * *

And then there he was. The moment she saw him she let go a small sob.

He was so tall and exhausted. He had his big sports bag over his shoulder, his leather jacket stood open and exposed a grey t-shirt. He walked through the hall like a warrior after battle and she was unable to cope.

“Oh God”, she whispered and ran towards him. She clashed with her whole body against his and dragged her arms around his waist and shoulders. Bellamy's body froze, shocked, then he breathed in and in a single movement, he dropped his bag, pressed his arms around her upper body and powerfully hold her.

She was overwhelmed with feelings and sensations. The knot in her chest was about to burst her apart. The only relief was to give in to the pulling force and press further into Bellamy. Her face was somewhere on his left shoulder and her cheeks were hurtfully pressed on the zipline of his leather jacket. It didn't matter. But the contrast between the bright light and the dark shadows of the jacket was too much, so she closed her eyes and huddled her face against his body. Bellamy let his head sink between her neck and shoulder. When she was completely surrounded by him, she started to shiver. She heard his heartbeat and felt it, his muscles, skin, heat, smell. The weight pressing her together didn't seem to lift, she rather lost control altogether.

Her throat contracted and she was unable to breathe normally. And with Bellamy around her, she was finally able to let it go. She didn't bother about appearing strong or tough, no, this didn't matter at all. In this moment she was with Bellamy, finally, and he was with her and everything else outside of his arms was irrelevant and could just leave her alone. Her uneven breathing quickly turned into dry, irregular sobs. Her whole body was in unbearable pain and clinging to Bellamy was the only way to release it.

She wasn't able to explain anything to him. She didn't want to either. She didn't even want to think about having to come to a mute understanding and Bellamy started to slowly rub his hand over her upper back.

And it helped. She slowly relaxed and let the suffocating pressure die away. But she wouldn't let him go, she rested her arms around his waist and in turn, he rested his around her back. She shivered so much. One of his hands landed on her hair and her midriff contracted irregularly, forcefully producing more tremulous sobs. With every shake, Bellamy renewed his pressure around her.

She didn't want to imagine what could have happened to him. She pushed every thought of him swimming dead on the water away. She never had to think about this again. It was over, it was done, he got to her safely and he held her. And she hold him, too, and together, without the need to talk, they let every disagreement fade away. Nothing mattered any more, no hurtful actions, no dishonest exchanges, no killing looks, and they only centred on holding each other, on feeling the shattered breaths, their warmth, their hair, on smelling their unique smells and on having one good thing in the world.

And Clarke pulled her back away and looked into Bellamy's eyes and nearly let go another sob. He looked at her in the most broken way, his wet eyes soft and worried, so vulnerable and open. His hand was still behind her head and he looked at her as if she was the most precious thing he had ever held. And her hand moved towards his jawline and she rolled her lips, furrowed her brows, nodded a bit and said, kind of apologetically: “I love you.”

And Bellamy's hand was behind her neck and he moved his head towards her and his lips brushed over hers. And she stretched and increased the pressure. Suddenly, the movements got faster, Bellamy breathed in sharply and shoved her closer and upwards and kissed her harder, and Clarke cupped his jaw and kissed him back. The feeling of his lips caressing hers made her knees go weak and she held onto him, dragging him down to her. At the same time, his hands were everywhere, one of them held her back and the other one was on her waist, her hip, her butt (both let go a simultaneous sigh there), her shoulders, her neck, her chin –

They pulled apart with open mouths, breathing heavy. Clarke could see his teeth and for a moment she realised she never thought teeth could be that attractive. His eyes were so huge and astonished and with a little, nearly invisible smile Bellamy brushed a strand of blonde hair out of Clarke's face.

“Hey”, he said.

“Bellamy”, she whispered and stretched upwards into an embrace. Temple to temple, Clarke looked over his shoulder while Bellamy held her steady. She melted into his embrace, closed her eyes and with her head in the crook of his neck, she was finally able to breathe again.

* * *

Maybe it was a minute, maybe it was an hour, maybe it was a year or it was an eternity. It took a long time until Bellamy and Clarke let go of each other again and even then they did not really stop touching each other. This was their moment, their time alone, and then Clarke remembered Octavia.

She stood up straight, looked into Bellamy's eyes and was struck at their open gentleness. She cupped his jaw once more but restrained herself from kissing him again. “We need to call Octavia”, she whispered.

Bellamy nodded, took out his phone and embraced Clarke with his other arm. She could see his phone screen and he didn't cover it. It felt like an ultimate proof of trust and Clarke kissed the closest body part of Bellamy, which turned out to be his breast. _6 missed calls by Clarke. 2 missed calls by O. 10 new messages._ Clarke smirked. Bellamy was typing, “Alive and safe! Need to clarify some stuff with the airline. Will be at yours tonight. Love you.” And then: “Greetings from C” Her mind was flooded with imminent arguments with lawyers, undergoing the emotions of the night again by telling Octavia everything – and Bellamy being in her flat tonight. She covered her face in his jacket and she was quite sure that this was the best place that ever existed.

But she was Clarke _fucking_ Griffin, so she took a breath and stepped away. “Let's go clear that stuff with the airline then”, she said with a smirk and embraced his hand with her fingers.

Bellamy's smirk was even wider and the sparkle in his eyes took her breath away – or maybe it was the following kiss. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was that Bellamy was here with her, chose her, took her and that she wouldn't let him go so fast, either.

* * *

The next hour brought much more light into the darkness. While queuing in for some required applications, Bellamy told Clarke about his experience. Apparently, his flight would have been delayed anyway due to bad weather. One hour before the new arrival time, the inexperienced pilots “fucked up the radio” (quoting Bellamy) and switched back and forth between devices and frequency.

“Raven could possibly explain better what happened but actually, we didn't know anything before half an hour before landing, either”, Bellamy said.

The plane was already in its final descent when they stopped the attempt due to bad sight.

“Without any contact and at night, they weren't sure if they'd hit another plane, you know”, said Bellamy while they took another step forward. “And then we flew around up in the air, running out of fuel and hoping not to crash, while the guys tried to re-establish communication … whatever. It's in the past now.”

And this made Clarke stop for a moment and she looked up to him from the side. “You okay?”

“Yeah”, he said, not looking at her. Then he turned his head: “Now I am”, and as if stung by an adder, he pulled down and pressed a quick, strong kiss on her lips. Both grinned sheepishly as they stepped forward to the airline representative.

* * *

“You'd be quite stupid if you wouldn't let Kane look over this, Bellamy”, Clarke said.

He let go an angry snort.

“For God's sake, Bellamy!”, Clarke desperately cried out and stopped walking in the middle of the parking area. “Get off your high horse! He is a _lawyer_ , he's a natural to that stuff and he is the one who can really help you with all the legal aftermaths of this _catastrophe!”_

Bellamy turned around and a car came to a stand right before Clarke with screeching brakes. “Would you please not kill yourself?”, he shouted.

Hastily, Clarke hurried to her own car. She opened the back and tossed her book bag into it. “Only if you stop being stupid”, she proclaimed.

Craning her neck, she stood in front of Bellamy and both exchanged challenging looks. Then, a bit calmer, Clarke said: “Use your connections to your advance, Bellamy.”

“You make me mad”, he said and threw his bag into the car. “You make me fucking mad, Clarke Griffin.” And with one swift movement, Clarke suddenly found herself between the cold, hard car and Bellamy's warm, strong body, his mouth over all her skin he could reach and she wished it would never stop.

Bellamy's phone rang. Both sighed frustrated and disentangled from each other. He pulled out the phone; it was Octavia. He hesitated for a moment, looked into Clarke's eyes and said “I'll talk to Kane”.

Clarke smiled brightly and kissed his cheek.

“Hey O, you're on speaker.”

“ _For fuck's sake, Bellamy, where are you?!”_

“We're at the car, in fact, we're just getting into it.” (Which they did.)

“ _Oh hell! Okay, so stop making heart eyes at Clarke and get your fucking ass over here.”_

“Heart eyes?!”

“Octavia”, Clarke shouted over the engine. “We're getting off the parking area, should we bring some take-out or anything?”

“ _No, Lincoln has cooked. Now hurry. I won't believe my brother is here until I see him.”_

After Bellamy hung up, he updated their gang's group chat with his arrival and the two of them drove in silence. Then Clarke said: “No, but for real, you need to stop with those heart eyes in public because otherwise I'll just kiss you every time.”

Bellamy's smirk was as huge as the wingspread of an aeroplane. “Maybe that's exactly what I want.”

Clarke just groaned.

* * *

At home, everyone was assembled in the living-room-slash-kitchen, despite it being the middle of the night. Raven sat in her armchair and the blankets on the big couch indicated that Octavia and Lincoln had just been sitting there. The TV was on, but on mute. The flat was full of delicious smell of food and Clarke and Bellamy suddenly realised how hungry they were. Octavia hugged her brother stronger than ever, before she forced them onto the couch and let Lincoln give them plates of food. Over risotto, they gave a summary of the events of the nights. Both didn't really want to go into much detail and the other three seemed to accept that.

“Yeah, lost comm can easily happen, but that duration of yours must be a new world record”, Raven said.

“I could easily relinquish the experience”, Bellamy said grumpily. He leaned back and put his arm around the armrest where Clarke sat. Suddenly aware of the indications of this, he put it back to his side.

“Okay, big brother, stop stalling”, Octavia said. When Bellamy and Clarke looked around confused, she pointed to the TV and said: “We saw you. You're something like the symbol of this event. They'll probably show you again pretty soon.”

Clarke was slightly alarmed. Octavia put the noise back on; the news channel currently interviewed an engineer on the commonness of lost communication in air traffic.

“Urgh”, said Raven. “Engineers. They know nothing.”

They watched the interview in silence, the Blakes in the middle of the couch with Lincoln and Clarke by their side, respectively. Bellamy had put his arms around Clarke's armrest again. Raven ranted about engineers in her armchair.

Then, the interview ended and the newscaster gave a summary of the events: “This evening, communication to a transatlantic flight from Amsterdam had been lost. Restoration of radio was possible and the plane was able to land safely on the ground with a delay of two and a half hours. No-one was injured and the persons responsible are currently being looked for. The pilots have to expect detailed investigations. The long uncertainness has caused dramatic reunion scenes at the airport.”

And then the image switched to the cordoned area at the terminal. Clarke recognised the interiors and room design, the people, the passenger door and herself, herself, how she stormed into the arms of a tall, vigorous man and clenched onto him with all her power and did not let him go for a long time.

“Well … that _does_ look dramatic”, she said slightly dry. Then she relaxed and slowly snuggled into Bellamy's side. “Now turn that off. No more airport stuff. Let's watch something else.”

Bellamy stroked her hair and pressed a light kiss on her head. His arm came to a rest on her waist. On his other side, there was Octavia, happy between Bellamy and Lincoln, and Raven looked pleased with the world as well. As they switched to old episodes of some 90s series, Clarke felt a rush of feelings. Her body had been full of emotions today and as she remembered it, lying in Bellamy's arm, they seethed through her again. Annoying uncertainty. Incredible surprise. Desperate fear, paralysing pain and utter relief. But then she remembered she was actually here, in Bellamy's arms, with her friends, and she finally felt at ease. This was how it was supposed to be. She breathed in unison with Bellamy, her heart calmed down and her skin started to prickle a bit. Things weren't the same any more. They were better. 

This was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I hope you liked it as much as I was thrilled during writing it. Urgh, this has been a journey. So many awards for noemie and vablatsky for all the beta reading, encourage and reassurance!
> 
> You can check out [my tumblr's story tag](littlewhitesnowowl.tumblr.com/tagged/bellarke-airport-au) where I talk about the process of writing this and like to imagine to be important. Feel free to contact me in any way and tell me what you thought of this! Have a nice day. ♥


End file.
